


The Table Dance

by StrictlyFromCorn (orphan_account)



Series: Fred Astaire x Ginger Rogers [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Astaire/Rogers RPF, Classic Hollywood - Fandom, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers Movies, The Gay Divorcee (1934)
Genre: F/M, Fred Astaire - Freeform, Ginger Rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StrictlyFromCorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based off of real events. Claire Luce did have a career-ending injury and Ginger did trip and fall on top of Fred while filming, but I doubt she induced a nosebleed. ;) Anyway, it was fun writing this fluff! Please do let me know what you think of it - or give the kudos button some love!<br/>1st half: Fred Astaire and Claire Luce perform The Table Dance at West End and Claire suffers a serious injury. Fred blames himself. (dark!Astaire)<br/>2nd half: In the film version, Fred is doing the Table Dance again, this time with Ginger. He topples, she topples, and he gets a nosebleed. She helps him out. (This is a lot fluffier!)<br/>Rated T for some cussing, but otherwise, it's pretty tame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Table Dance

How many things could go wrong in a musical play? In the mind of Fred Astaire, the list was endless. He could miss a dance step, or flub his lines, or sing something off-key, or something horrendous like that. He rehearsed all the time - practically all the time, but he was still the most insecure leading man one would probably meet. And that nervousness was doubled by the fact that he had just split with his sister, Adele. She had gone off and married - and he had found himself a new partner in the beautiful Claire Luce.

The Broadway run of _Gay Divorce_ , with songs written by Cole Porter, had been successful enough. The critics liked it, they hadn't messed anything big up, and now they were doing it on West End. It was about to hit 180 performances, and that wasn't bad at all. Fred had been playing the role of Guy Holden for more than a year - and gotten pretty good at it, too. Though, there was one thing that he was worried about. It was the "Table Dance" at the end, where Claire practically held on to him for support while they descended a chair. They had tumbled a few times when they first started rehearsing, but no one else had given the routine a second thought once they had it mastered.

Till that night. It had looked all set to be another great performance, when the Table Dance cheated both performers. At the very end - when all the chaos about correspondents and marriage had been cleared up, the characters of Guy and Mimi were gonna get married, and of course, in true Broadway style, they had to dance.

"Sixty seconds, Mr. Astaire!" The stage manager called to the tap-dancing star, who responded with a wave. He didn't need reminding anyways - he had all the cues memorized since before the Broadway run. With a confident pull of his red tie, which complimented his brown jacket, he made his way to where his partner was standing. It was completely silent backstage as he took Claire's hand and threw in a wink as an unspoken thank-you for another smooth performance, and as soon as the curtain went up and the music started, Fred instinctively stepped into the dance steps that he had spent so many hours rehearsing.

His mind started to wander to other things even though the smile remained on his face and he didn't miss a beat in the dance. One thing in particular that bothered him was that he was terribly hungry. He _never_ felt hungry all of a sudden. Maybe a nice, juicy steak at a restaurant with the crew would be the solution. That gave birth to the question - what kind of steak? Filet mignon sounded just like the thing for him...

Fred did not know what happened next. One second he was thinking about steak, and the next, he felt himself losing his balance. What he had feared most had come true. His left foot had made contact with the chair, but his right foot didn't reach the ground. Instead, he experienced that feeling of almost being suspended in mid-air for a moment, but not in a good way. His heart rate quickened, and that split-second of distraction was all that it took for both dancers to fall.

What compounded his surprise was the fact that he didn't feel himself land on the wooden floor, and have the air knocked out of him as had happened many times before. No, Fred wasn't on the floor - he had managed to land squarely on top of Claire. It wasn't funny or romantic as most people assume such a situation to be. It was simply painful. As soon as he realized what had happened, he picked himself up, finally bringing his senses back to the gasping audience, and the orchestra that had stopped playing. There was a twisting, burning pain in his right leg, as if he had twisted something, but he was more concerned about his dancing partner.

She didn't look like she was doing too well, either, judging by the expression on of pain her face. Breathing heavily, Fred reached down and offered her both hands to help Claire get up. The feeling of intense guilt, which he knew he would experience, hadn't set in yet. Two things mattered to him - to make sure that Claire was okay, and to take care of the audience. Several people had gotten up in concern, and the orchestra had started playing again on the command of the conductor.

"Are you okay?" Fred whispered as he pulled her up, holding her close to himself to support her. Claire nodded breathlessly, but he knew that it must've been painful to have fallen down on the ground, and then have him land on top of her. All because of a momentary lapse on his behalf. Her hand was clutched to her hip, and she was obviously _not_ okay.

"Should we drop the curtain?" The stage manager called to the two stars. Fred was vehemently against the idea - pain in his leg be damned, he wanted to finish the show for the audience. He felt like he owed a complete show to them, but on the other hand, he owed something to Claire, too, because it was all his fault that she had fallen. That's what he thought.

"What do you think?" He decided to leave it up to Claire. He would be a tyrant if he made her do it again against her wishes, since she was in so much pain, and he didn't want to be one. If it hurt her, then he wouldn't do it.

"We'll do it again, Freddie." Claire replied, and he couldn't have felt more proud - and yet, guilty - in one moment. Fred didn't quite know how they were going to pull it off with both of them somewhat injured, but he knew that they were going to make it work.

And so they did correctly a second time, with him holding on to her for dear life. It was almost as if he was the one who was going to fall if he didn't hold on tight enough.

After the dance, there was thunderous applause, and as soon as the actors were out of sight of the audience, Claire fell back into one of the chairs. Just a moment ago she had looked so much at ease, and here she was, in intense pain. No longer Guy Holden but just plain old Fred Astaire - worrying, fussing Fred Astaire - the tap-dancer rushed over to his partner's side. He didn't have to act or pretend anymore. His showman instinct was satisfied. What emerged was the frail, human side of him. The side that blamed himself over and over for the whole business.

 _It's all my fault._ That was the only thing that occupied his mind as he watched the medical crews rush in and take charge of the whole situation. _My fault._

* * *

_As a result of the injury, Claire Luce's dancing career came to an end, and Fred's campaign for her to star in the film version of the play was overruled by RKO. Instead, they brought in Ginger Rogers, who had created a sensation with him the Carioca in early 1934. And again Fred was confronted with his nemesis - the Table Dance - while shooting for the film._

* * *

 

"I think you'll do swell, Freddie." Mark Sandrich, the director, consoled the star. He had heard of the accident on West End, and he knew Fred was especially apprehensive doing the whole thing over with a different partner. They had been setting up for the scene all morning, and Fred had practiced the hell out of the routine, but he was still scared about anything going wrong.

Ginger was waiting in the corner, ready to start the shoot. She was dressed beautifully in a stylish hat and a travelling suit, and she had practiced every step of the routine over and over again with Fred, perfectionist that he was. At least there was one thing that Fred could take comfort in - they weren't doing it for a live audience, and if they messed up, they could do another take.

"All right, boys, let's start shooting!" The pep-talk over with Fred, Mark called out to the crew members, who got themselves ready. Fred gave Ginger a small nod, and she responded with a thumbs-up sign as he positioned himself at the door. The cameras started rolling, and he strutted into the room in that famous, self-assured air that he had carried both on stage and on film.

Ginger rushed to his side, throwing her things on the couch, and he led her in a series of spins, maneuvering nicely in the tight space of his apartment. But that wasn't the part that worried Fred. He recalled for a brief moment how there were unlimited encores to the Table Dance in the Broadway run of the show, and even in England. Well, that was probably the last time he was going to perform that dance, and not-so-surprisingly, he was glad.

With the easier part of the dance routine finished, the two performers tackled the table and chairs part. Fred really didn't know what he would do if there was a rehashing of the incident with Claire. He didn't want to be the cause of another career ending. And on top of that - he couldn't quite put it into words, but he wanted to protect Ginger from everything bad. Maybe it was 'cause they had dated once. Maybe it was 'cause he felt even more responsible for all his dance partners. He didn't know why.

But there was a dance to do and if Fred had learned something from that night, it was to focus his full attention on the dance. Especially since this was the same one. So, he conciously made each step, holding on to Ginger as tightly as possible when they descended the chair the first time. But the obstacle wasn't over - they had to go up the chair, on the table, and then down again.

Still keeping that self-assured smile on his face, Fred led his partner up the chair again. However, his foot didn't touch the table, and that feeling of losing his balance and wobbling returned. This time, though, he did feel himself land on the floor - and it was not a pleasant experience, to say the least.

He had landed on his back, and knocked away the table in the process of falling. And to make matters worse, he had probably hit his head on the table's edge, too, since it hurt like no one's business. Yet, that wasn't the most surprising of the whole situation. Fred had fallen down many times before and hurt himself while dancing. Only, Ginger had landed right on top of him, and she was staring at him like a startled animal, and he was doing pretty much the same thing to her.

"Ouch..." Fred couldn't help but let out that word as he felt like he was in a pretty sorry shape. As if that word seemed to break the trance that the two were in, Ginger quickly got off of her partner, and he was glad to have all that extra weight lifted from his chest. With a lot of effort, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, one hand to his throbbing head, as he looked around at the damage that had been done.

"Oh, Freddie, I'm so sorry, I- are you alright?" Ginger asked, as she sat down next to him. The concern in her voice and behavior was transparent, and a couple of other crew members rushed over to the tap-dancing star.

"I'm _alive_ ," Fred replied, and gratefully accepted Mark's hand to help him get up. "Oh, that was quite a tumble back there. What happened?" He honestly had no idea what had transpired back on the table, only that it didn't end well. He started rubbing his forehead with his left hand, even though it hurt all over.

"I think I must have tripped back there." Ginger intercepted Mark's answer. "I'm so sorry, Fred. Really, I am." She was about to say something else when she noticed that her partner's nose was starting to bleed. In fact, everyone else present except him noticed that fact. "Come on, I'll go get your nose fixed." With that, she took his arm, and started leading him away from the crew.

"What? What's wrong with my n- oh." Fred broke off as he noticed the blood. He would have taken out his pocket handkerchief, but Ginger had his arm, and his other hand was still rubbing his head. "Gosh, that must have been quite a fall." With that, he shook his head slightly, which was met with protest from the girl practically clinging onto him.

"Don't do that! It'll make your nosebleed worse!" She let go of his arm and took his pocket handkerchief, wiping the blood, which was still flowing, from his nose. "Here, sit down." She instructed, setting him down on one of the chairs, a concerned look on her face. "Aww, gee, I really didn't mean to do this to you."

All through that, Fred had been quietly watching her with an almost amused expression, something of a half-smile. At Ginger's instruction to lean over forward, he did so, almost forgetting about all his other aches and pains as he listened to her go on about how sorry she was. Her apologies were punctuated with occasional instructions as she pinched his nose tightly. Finally, unable to help it, he started to find the whole situation very, very funny.

"What? What's so funny?" Ginger asked, sensing his oncoming fit of laughter.

"Nothing-" Fred broke off, trying to control his laughs. "It's just- well, you're so worked up about one little nosebleed. It's nothing. It's happened to me before, you know. Don't think you're so special, to have induced my first nosebleed." He chuckled, almost able to predict her reaction. Dating in New York had told them each a lot about the other, and he was glad that their comfort level had remained.

"Take care of your own nosebleed, then!" She turned away from him in a little pout. And she thought that she had hurt him pretty bad!

"You know I didn't mean that, Ginge." Fred addressed her by that old nickname, which made her turn back to face him. This man - Fred Astaire - was so many things to her. Dance partner, annoying as hell, bordering on the verge of an ass sometimes, but boy, did he mean a lot to her.

A lot, meaning everything.

And their feelings for each other were mutual as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek in a sudden display of affection. Maybe the Table Dance wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe having Ginger instead of Claire wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe he would be able to put the guilt of that unholy night on West End behind him after all.

And God forbid, if anything happened to Ginger when they did that retake of the Table Dance. 


End file.
